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Evander

“ W hat exactly do you think you’re doing?” Quinn demands as we trek across the small green toward the stables.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I reply, keeping my tone cool.

“Like hell you don’t,” Quinn shoots back.

I skid to a halt a few feet short from the building and look back at my dear friend. I let loose a heavy sigh. “Did you see her today?” I ask, knowing full well he will be pissed at me for saying it.

Quinn snorts. “You’re acting like a child.”

“I would argue—a child doesn’t feel this way at all.” A smirk twitches on my lip as I speak.

“You know she has a purpose here.” Quinn’s eyes darken, his voice lowering. “You cannot distract her from it. No matter your...feelings,” he finishes with a disapproving look.

I throw my hands up in feigned resignation, palms facing out. “Who am I to get in the way of destiny?” I counter sarcastically, though my face falls as I think about the meaning behind Quinn’s words. “We don’t know that it’s her.”

Quinn shrugs as he pushes past me into the stables, the earthy air within warm with the scent of hay. “We don’t know that it isn’t.”

I follow closely behind him, letting his words sink in.

Bria is thought to be the prophecy. Well, one half of it anyway.

And we treat her like she is—those of us who know, at least. Hell, most of my job here at the camp has to do with protecting her as one of the few who know her destiny, keeping her true identity a secret while maintaining security of the entire camp.

We are to keep her hidden, even from the rest of the rebels, until the time comes.

It’s still difficult to recognize her as this girl who can change the world.

Who will change the world. We were all so close for years before the attack in Elwyn, playing together, growing up side by side, and now living this rebel life together.

When my father took me to the king’s court after the attack, I know Quinn was devastated.

He thought I was gone forever. To be fair, so did I.

I look toward him now, remembering all he did to help me, to give me a place in this camp and give me a new life—one worth living.

He’s never resented me or judged me for all the evil things I did in the capital.

And there is plenty to hate me for. I owe him.

“You’re right, Quinn, I’ll be more careful,” I concede, moving to grab a saddle from the rack on the old wall.

Quinn gives an approving grunt, taking his own saddle to the dapple-gray stallion at the far end and readying the horse.

Silence settles in as we adjust straps and lead the horses out into the chill morning.

They shake, letting their dissatisfaction with the cold be known, but they’ll warm up soon enough.

We have a decent ride ahead of us this morning and the movement will help keep the cold at bay.

We mount our horses and start toward one of the steep paths leading out of the small mountain village. Another trip to see how far the king and his people are getting, how close they are to finding our quiet camps and the precious daughters of the prophecy we conceal within them.